Quid Pro Quo
by 29Pieces
Summary: An even trade, Sam verified. Gadreel for Cas, and Metatron was an entity of his word. The problem is, one angel was beaten half to death, and the other hadn't been touched... not exactly a fair exchange, after all. But Metatron knows one easy way of fixing that. And it doesn't bode well for Cas. Alternate ending for 9x18, with extra whump because more whump is never wrong.


_A/N: I'm supposed to be working on prompts for drabbles, but the muse really wanted this to happen and wasn't going to let go until it was written. Et voila! Thanks to a wonderful Aini Nufire for being an awesome beta!_

 _So this is basically an alternate version of the hostage swap in 9x18, Meta Fiction, where Metatron is a total jerk. Shameless whump. Absolutely shameless. Bring on the H/C! (no warnings, just some blood and bruises, nothing beyond what you'd find in an episode)_

* * *

Sam watched in mute horror beside Dean as Metatron leaned over and blew out the holy fire like it was made of birthday candles. Impossible… angels couldn't just _put out_ the flames like that! And yet, Metatron _had_ , and Sam's hunting instincts took over without second thought. Grabbing the angel blade he had stashed in his waistband, Sam lunged towards the scribe with Dean right at his side.

"No thanks!" Metatron yelled, throwing his hands up towards them.

The unyielding body of the Impala stopped Sam's backwards flight, shoved by Metatron's power. He grunted in pain, angel blade clattering uselessly to the ground. For a second, the three glowered at each other, while Sam tried not to panic. So much for their trap…

The sound of an engine tore Sam's gaze from the scribe, watching as an SUV arrived, presumably bearing Cas inside. No matter how hard he tried to move, wanting to have the blade back in his hand when the angels approached, Sam found himself held fast. _Damn it._

Metatron turned his back on the two, stepping behind the Impala and pointing at the trunk to pop it open like it wasn't even locked. Like there weren't wards painted all over the inside.

Sam's heart beat faster; they had grossly, _horrifyingly_ underestimated him.

From his vantage point, Sam watched as Metatron stared down at Gadreel.

"Oh dear," the scribe murmured with a small shake of his head. "Well, this is going to be a problem."

Throat closing up, Sam demanded, "What are you talking about? Metatron, we had a deal!"

"Where's Cas, you son of a bitch?" snarled Dean, jerking in an attempt to fight his way through Metatron's restraining power.

"Yes, an even trade," Metatron replied simply. "That was the deal." He turned towards the SUV and waved.

The doors opened, revealing four more angels that Sam didn't recognize and—to his relief—Cas. Though the two who had been in the backseat with him held his arms tightly between them, he seemed to be okay. Cas gave them both a look that was at once solemn and reassuring as he was escorted closer.

As they neared, though, Sam saw Cas's gaze drift down to Gadreel, still in the trunk. Immediately, Cas faltered.

"Ah ah!" Metatron snapped as Cas jerked in the angels' grips. The two not already holding him whipped out their angel blades, pressing them close to his throat and heart. Together, the four hauled him closer while Sam and Dean could only watch with wary dismay.

Looking between Cas and Gadreel, Metatron asked, "Do we see the problem here?"

"The only thing I see is a dead scribe if you try backing out," Dean snapped. "We brought you Gadreel. Now let Cas go!"

"It's okay, Dean," Cas murmured, glaring at the angel holding her blade against his throat.

She smirked coolly back in reply, but Metatron scoffed with exaggerated disbelief.

"Okay?" he repeated. "I mean, look at your guy." He gestured to Cas, who glowered. Metatron nodded to Gadreel next. "And look at mine. Castiel. Did I harm you in any way?"

Sam's heart pounded, hoping this wasn't going where he had an awful feeling it was, watching Cas's inscrutable face. The angel hesitated, but finally replied,

"No."

"And, aside from tying you up in my office, did I lay a hand on you at all?"

"…No."

"No!" Metatron cried, turning back to the Winchesters with another little shake of his head. "But Gadreel?"

"Don't pretend you care about him, Metatron," Sam snarled, struggling against the power holding him back once again, desperate to get to Cas and get out of there while they could. "You haven't even let him out of the trunk yet!"

He shot a quick, panicked glance at his brother. Dean didn't say a word, though his murderous glare could have skewered Metatron with its hatred. The scribe ignored them both, twisting back towards Cas.

"Castiel, you remember what we discussed?"

" _You_ discussed," Cas muttered. " _I_ was gagged."

"What are you talking about?" Dean spat out. "What's going on?"

Metatron shrugged with a heavy sigh. "I agreed to an even trade. Quid pro quo. This, boys… unfortunately, this isn't an even trade. Not yet." With a wave of his hand, he signaled the other angels still gripping Cas's arms. They kicked his legs out from under him, forcing him down to his knees.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yanked forward along with Sam now, but they were stuck. "Metatron!"

For his part, Cas only glowered up at his captor as the scribe grabbed him by the tie. Metatron tugged on it, pulling the angel in.

"Explain to them how this is going to go."

Sam's desperate gaze swiveled back to Cas. He could already guess exactly where this was leading, as their friend glanced towards the trunk that Gadreel was still lying inside. When Cas met their eyes again, his gaze was apologetic rather than afraid.

"He'll give me back…" Cas finally stated with shoulders tensing visibly. "In the same condition he finds Gadreel in."

 _No!_ Sam's eyes widened, worst fears confirmed. His boots scuffed the ground, sliding under him as he strained to lunge forward to no avail, refusing to believe that this was really about to happen, with no way to reach Cas or come to his aid.

"Don't you _dare_ -" Dean started to snarl, but was quickly overridden by Metatron.

"Oh, suddenly the thought of violence isn't so much fun when it's one of yours, hmm? What's the matter, Dean, can't stomach the blood when it's not on _your_ hands?"

"You touch him and I swear to _god_ …"

"Dean," Cas growled out, still watching Metatron with a stubborn glare. "I'll be fine."

Sam watched the angels glower at each other, trying to control his panicked breaths. But Gadreel was alive, so surely if Metatron wanted this to be a fair exchange, he wouldn't hurt Cas too badly, right? Cas had taken awful beatings in the past, but the idea of this happening right there in front of them…

Slowly, Metatron worked the knot of Cas's tie loose, then slid the strip of cloth free. He held it out, eyes still locked on Cas.

"I'm sure Gadreel didn't have a sporting chance," he remarked. "Tie his hands."

"No!" Sam shouted as the four lackey angels ripped Cas's bulky overcoat and suit jacket off, discarding them like garbage.

With four angels working against him, Cas didn't stand a chance. They bore him down to the ground, forcing him onto his stomach in the dirty gravel. He tried to kick out but had no leverage in that position, unable to fight them off as an angel wrenched first one and then his other arm behind his back. Another took the tie from Metatron and wordlessly lashed Cas's wrists together.

"Ah ah, staging!" Metatron exclaimed. "Make sure you're not between him and your audience, or they won't be able to see."

The angels obligingly shifted aside, leaving the Winchesters a clear view of Cas as they bound him. He looked up at the brothers, already breathing heavier, trying to shrug off the restraining hands. With his wrists tied behind him, the attempt was weak at best, and yet his expression still held apology rather than concern for himself. Sam knew without him saying a word that Cas was more worried about the effect this would have on _them_ than any damage the angels could dole out.

"It's okay," Cas grunted again as the angels heaved him back up to his feet. Even then, he couldn't go far with one of them gripping his arms from behind to hold him still.

"Let's just numb that stolen grace of yours up a bit," Metatron suggested, reaching out with two fingers. "So you're not getting an unfair advantage. I'm sure they used sigils on poor Gadreel."

His fingertips pressed against Cas's forehead. The angel flinched, then gasped as his eyes briefly flared blue. If his grace had been rendered useless, Sam thought, that would mean he couldn't heal whatever they did to him…

Beside Sam, Dean finally fell still. "Metatron," he said, somewhere between firm and pleading. "Stop. Cas had nothing to do with this, okay? _I'm_ the one who hurt Gadreel, so if you gotta punish someone, punish me."

Metatron paused, then turned back to the Winchesters. He moved closer, right in Dean's face, smirking knowingly up at the hunter.

"Dean," he chuckled. " _Dean_. I know your character arcs. Your flaws. Your mannerisms. I could write you better than you could _be_ you. Punish you?" The scribe angled his head towards Cas, bound and firmly held. His eyes flicked back to Dean. "Trust me. I'm about to."

"No!"

But Metatron had already turned from them, finally reaching in to help lever Gadreel out of the trunk. The angel had yet to say a word, though he did shoot a sideways glower at the trapped Winchesters as Metatron pointed at the handcuffs to undo the catch.

The scribe shook his head as he let the cuffs fall to the ground, tutting. "This certainly doesn't look good for Castiel. A split lip?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Who wants to start?"

"I do," one of the lackey angels snapped before the others could speak up. Held in place, Cas couldn't evade the punishing blow she dealt him.

"Cas!" Sam shouted as his friend's face snapped to the side.

Licking blood off his lip, Cas straightened again with steely eyes. He thrust his head backwards without warning, head-butting the one who held him, then immediately kicking out as soon as he had room to move. The angel who had hit him gasped in surprise as his foot caught her square in the stomach.

"Tsk tsk, Castiel," Metatron sighed. He pointed down at Cas's feet; fetters appeared from nowhere, locking him to the ground so he couldn't step an inch in any direction, let alone lash out again.

The angel he'd head-butted let go, holding his nose in fury as the remaining two angels surged in to replace him. Each one took an arm, giving Cas a harsh shake, but standing to his sides so as to be out of reach. Sam and Dean froze, waiting, watching the first angel turn to Metatron with a fuming question in his eyes.

Metatron gestured indulgently. "Have at it."

"No!"

"Metatron, you _son of a bitch!_ "

Sam watched, mouth dry with horror at his own helplessness to reach his friend, as the angels pounced. Their fists slammed into Cas's face and abdomen, taking turns leaving discolored bruises across his skin. Through it all, he never made a sound beyond pained grunts as he tried in vain to struggle free. Blood dripped from Cas's nose and mouth as first one and then the other angels switched out holding him in place or attacking.

"Cas!" Sam couldn't help but cry out. His desperate eyes flicked to Metatron, who was smiling lightly, and Gadreel… who still hadn't spoken, but whose expression was more troubled and less enthusiastic than the scribe's. With another useless strain against the invisible bonds, Sam yelled, "Metatron, that's enough!"

Without looking at him, Metatron raised a hand, and the angels thankfully stopped the attack. Cas spat out a mouthful of blood, each breath a pained wheeze, but his first words were,

"It's okay…"

"Oh, no," the scribe put in cheerfully, "we're not done yet."

Gadreel straightened, speaking at last. "Metatron, a word."

Sam traded an anxious look with Dean, leaning in slightly to hear as Gadreel pulled Metatron to the side.

"You said in this story, we were the heroes."

"Yes, and?"

Gadreel's gaze turned to Cas, voice lowering even more. "If we are truly the heroes, as you say... should we not be acting with more honor?"

"Honor?" Metatron echoed, askance. "Look what they did to you! _That_ is dishonorable. When the hero avenges his friends, it's called justice. This is justice, Gadreel." His eyes hardened. "Besides, if you hadn't gone off script and gotten yourself caught, we wouldn't need to be going through this, would we?"

Gadreel turned; Sam couldn't begin to feel sorry for the angel after everything he'd done, but he also couldn't pretend not to notice the flare of shame in his eyes. The hunter narrowed his own gaze, wondering what exactly the power dynamics were between the pair, but Metatron interrupted his musings with an exaggerated wince.

"Ooo. Yikes. Looks like they cut you up pretty bad too, hmm?" He turned back to his lackeys as Sam's mouth fell open in horror. "Blades out. Nothing life-threatening, mind you, just once or twice each."

Dean thrashed against the car. "I will _kill_ you, you hear me, you dick?"

Four blades flashed in the early morning sun, but Cas only clenched his jaw. When the first one sliced down his chest, he released a strangled noise that was obviously fighting not to become a scream. Without any grace, still so despicably outnumbered, Cas's struggles got him nowhere. Another blade struck. This time, it opened a gash across his cheek, eliciting no more than a restrained moan.

"Cas!" Sam couldn't bear to watch, couldn't bear to look away.

"It- it's okay," Cas choked out through gritted teeth. His eyes met Sam's as the angels bore him down to his knees once again in the ferocity of their attack. Though his expression was pained, it also remained proud, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of his cries.

Rather than holding his arms, the first angel moved in behind Cas, one hand clenched in his hair to keep him upright. The blades slashed across his unprotected body, some leaving deep scores, some shallow cuts that rang with grace. Finally, Cas closed his eyes, face taut.

"That's it," Metatron chimed in. "There you go. Avenge your brother! Dean had him within an inch of his life, for crying out loud. And I'm pretty sure I note a couple broken ribs."

"Stop!" Dean shouted. "Metatron, stop!"

But the scribe ignored not only him, but also the angel he was supposedly avenging as Gadreel looked away from the spectacle with a deep furrow in his brow. How much more of this could Cas possibly take? And why, Sam thought with a rush of anger, had he allowed Dean to stay alone with Gadreel? He'd known Dean had been _off_ since getting the Mark, he should have never left him with the prisoner.

By now, one of the angels had Cas by the throat, squeezing so that Cas choked, while slamming his fist over and over into his bruised face. One eye was already swollen closed, and for a second all Sam could see was Dean, kneeling on the ground at Stull Cemetery, while Lucifer used _his_ hands to beat him bloody. His chest heaved with panic for Cas as the angel was flung down.

All semblance of control was lost. The four stood over Cas, who was trying to curl up into a ball, kicking with the full force of angry angels. Sam's desperate eyes sought Metatron, who seemed in no hurry to stop the brutal onslaught.

"Cas!" Dean thrashed like a madman beside him, but nothing could break through the scribe's will. " _CAS!_ You dicks, I'll kill you all, do you hear me? I'll kill you-"

The dull snap of cracking bone cut over him; this time Cas couldn't totally bite back the agonized cry.

Sam's heart dropped. "Enough! He's had enough now!"

"Metatron," a quieter voice spoke as Gadreel turned back to him at last, expressionless. "If this is truly for my sake, then for my sake, stop."

Finally, Metatron held up a hand; the mob of angels paused. The scribe strode forward as his lackeys cleared a space for him. Cas lay on the ground, shuddering but otherwise unmoving.

Metatron's mouth curled into a smile and he waved his hand. The fetters around Cas's ankles disappeared. Without untying him, two of the angels leaned over to grab his arms and drag him back over the rough gravel towards the Winchesters.

Sam's throat bobbed as he watched them throw Cas carelessly down. He landed at their feet in a bloody pile, immediately trying to curl up in pain and protection.

" _Now_ it's an even trade," Metatron shot at them with a dark smile. "This is what happens to villains."

Sam breathed deeply, ice flooding his soul. He turned his eyes back to the scribe. "No."

Beside him, Dean was now just as deadly cool as he finished for Sam: " _WE_ are what happens to villains."

For the first time, Metatron's smirking exterior seemed a little less certain, falling for only a second. He recovered quickly, stepping back with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Well," he said, glancing down at Cas—groaning and shifting weakly—with a light shrug. "Castiel, don't forget what I told you." The scribe leveled one last smirk at the trapped Winchesters, then waved his hand at the lackey angels to direct them towards the SUV. "Pleasure doing business with you two. Until our next scene together."

Turning on his heel, Metatron stalked away. Gadreel hesitated, starting to lean down towards Cas.

"Touch him and _die_ ," Dean snarled.

Gadreel paused, looking up at the two, then back down at the bound angel. He swallowed, hesitating as though about to speak. Nothing came out, though. Backing up, Gadreel finally tore his eyes away and hurried after Metatron and the others. The SUV roared to life and disappeared down the road.

The power holding Sam against the Impala released, leaving him to gasp and fling himself down by Cas with Dean right behind him.

"Cas!" Dean yelled. He reached for his friend's face, mouthing a soundless plea.

Scrambling to get to Cas's back, Sam swallowed hard at the amount of red already staining the normally crisp white shirt. Cas shifted again with a soft shudder, pulling at the tie lashing his wrists together. Already, the skin bore deep marks from the fabric cutting in so tightly against his struggles. His hands opened and closed a few times with increasing desperation.

"Okay," Sam breathed. "Okay, I'm gonna get you loose. Hold on. Hold on…"

"Sam, get his hands, damn it!"

"I'm trying!" The knot was too tight, so Sam pulled his pocket knife out, flicking it open and cutting the tie away. Cas's cyanotic hands fell slack.

"It's…" Cas whispered, blinking his good eye open. "It's okay… I'm okay."

Dean swore. "This is not 'okay', Cas! Damn him, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch!"

Cas just closed his eyes, arms moving painfully to guard his abused abdomen. He coughed, more blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Probably internal bleeding, Sam thought with a flare of panic. And Cas had no grace at the moment.

He traded a worried look with Dean, weighing their options.

"Well we can't stay here," Dean snapped in reply to the unasked question. "Cas, I know it hurts but I gotta get you in the car, okay?"

"'kay…"

"Okay. Easy… easy, watch his ribs."

Sam wanted to snap that he knew how to move someone who'd been injured, temper worn to threads, but he bit his tongue. Dean had to be just as frantic as he was, and losing their heads would get them nowhere. The hunter hurried to open the back car door closest to them before reaching down to help Dean maneuver Cas up.

"Are they gone?" the angel mumbled.

"Yeah," Sam assured him as his fists clenched. "They're gone."

Cas's face crumpled, breath hitching in agony. He didn't try to hold back the pained cry as Dean adjusted his arm to help support him, or steady his ragged wheezes as they walked him the few steps to the waiting Impala. As soon as he was sitting inside, Cas tilted his head back against the seat, eyes closed again, shuddering.

"The Bunker isn't far," Dean promised gruffly. "Just hang in there."

While Dean raced to start the car, Sam grabbed Cas's jacket and coat from the dusty heap they'd been discarded in. He gathered them in a tight bundle clutched close to his chest as though by extension he could help hold Cas together as well.

The drive back to the Bunker was silent. Cas barely even moved beyond his head lolling side to side whenever Sam cast worried looks into the backseat. His face was a collage of purple, blue, and green from the angels' fists, and rust red from their blades. The blood dripping from his mouth and nose was already starting to dry by the time they reached the safety of home.

"Come on," Sam said, reaching in to grip Cas's arm as Dean hurried around to help. "Let's get you up." Between them, the angel managed to lever himself out of the back seat, though his face was already turning grey.

"I- I think I can walk-" he started, immediately before his legs buckled.

"Gotcha," Sam assured him as he grabbed hold of Cas's elbow to help keep him upright. Dizziness… the grey pallor… yes, they were almost _certainly_ looking at some kind of internal bleeding. There wasn't much they could do about that though, aside from letting his body put itself back together.

They got Cas down the stairs with only a few heart-wrenching groans of pain that Cas couldn't quite keep in. The broken ribs had to be hurting like hell, but there was nothing they could do about that, either. Sam fought to rein in his fury, cursing Metatron for not only hurting Cas, but doing it in ways that they couldn't _fix_.

"Get that shirt off," Dean ordered gruffly as they finally sat Cas down on his bed. "I'll grab you some clean stuff to put on once we've patched you up."

"There's really no need-" Cas started, but Dean was already gone. The angel sighed and looked away from Sam. "Don't worry about me."

With as much of a smile as he could manage, Sam shrugged. "How long have you known us, Cas? Worrying about family is what we _do._ "

Carefully, he helped Cas slip out of the white dress shirt. The material pulled and stuck to the already tacky blood from some of the deeper cuts, pulling another strained moan from the wounded angel. Sam sucked in a sharp inhale at the sight of the black and blue mosaic decorating Cas's torso.

"How soon before your grace kicks back in?"

"Um… hopefully no more than a day or two."

 _Days_? Sam made a mental note to grab some painkillers to bring him. Apparently this wasn't going to be something he could sleep off.

"Sam," Cas went on. "I- I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Cas, no. You just focus on healing."

"Okay," Dean said from the doorway, a bundle under one arm and a bowl in the other hand. "We're gonna get you cleaned up and then you need to rest, let your body heal the slow way."

"Dean, I'm really okay-"

"Damn it, Cas, let me help you! Okay?" Dean slammed the bowl down on the bedside table, sloshing water everywhere. With his back to them, he leaned over the nightstand, taking a deep breath. After a second, he murmured, "Please, just let me do this much. After everything I got you into…"

"Dean… this wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, we all know that's not true," Dean snorted, turning back around. "You would have walked out of there without a scratch if not for me. If I hadn't-"

He cut off. Angrily, Dean splashed a rag down into the bowl of water and wrung it out, then moved closer to start dabbing at some of the blood on the angel's face. "Cas, I'm sorry."

Cas's one-eyed gaze softened and he sighed painfully. "I don't hold you responsible for this. This was Metatron's doing, not yours."

"What did he want with you, anyway?" Sam asked, taking another rag to start sponging off dried blood from one of the deeper gashes.

Hissing in pain, Cas shook his head. "He wants me to lead the angels against him. I'm… I'm the villain of his story. And I'm starting to think he might be right."

"You're not a villain," Dean snapped, voice rising.

"I meant about the angels. Metatron is… well, he's crazy. If he's allowed to continue- I have to stop him. But he's gotten so much power now…" Cas shuddered under their ministrations, the bowl of water quickly staining red from the blood. Even once the brothers had washed away the worst of it, it only revealed yet more bruising underneath, a testament to the brutality of the assault. His whole body was trembling slightly, exhausted and weakened.

"Stitches?" Sam asked quietly, looking up at his brother.

Dean frowned, then shook his head. "Let's just bandage him up for now."

Covering the deepest gashes with medical gauze and taping bandages snugly in place, the two Winchesters worked silently to patch Cas up as best as they could. Once he was cleaned up, Sam helped him into the fresh t-shirt and sweats that Dean had brought, while Dean retrieved painkillers and a glass of water for him to take.

The rest would be up to Cas. Sam forced down the fear and fury that continually tried to claw its way back up from the pit of his gut, shaken at the image of Cas looking so pale and injured against the white blankets. When he tracked Metatron down… the scribe would be sorry he'd ever dared do this to Cas.

"Just get some rest," he advised once there was nothing more they could do. "We're here if you need anything."

"I need to… find the angels," Cas mumbled, though his one good eye was already fluttering closed. "I- I need to gather them…"

"Yeah, well, maybe we can use that horn thing," Dean said.

"Risky," Sam pointed out. "We don't know if the ones who show are gonna be friendly. Might be our best bet, though."

"No, wait…" With a weak cough, Cas struggled to sit back up. "I meant, _I_ need to gather them. It's too dangerous for you to get involved-"

"We're already involved, Metatron saw to that," Dean snapped back with a stubborn shake of his head. "Every time we separate, you end up getting hurt. So, no, Cas. We're sticking together on this."

"But… Abaddon… you still have to contend with her."

Sam snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. So between her and Metatron, looks like we're going to have our plates full for a while. Look, this isn't up for debate. We're with you on this. And we're going to make Metatron pay."

"But…"

Cas looked from one to the other but seemed to be running out of arguments and energy to stay awake. Sam and Dean both stood.

"Rest," Sam urged. "We'll figure this out, like we always do."

And god help anyone who hurt one of their own.


End file.
